Waited For You

Chapter 50

{ THE PRESENT } :-

Much later-
after the laughter had died down,
after the house had finally gone quiet-
they had slipped away.
Not to somewhere new.
But to their apartment's building.
He had planned it deliberately.
"One night," he had whispered while driving, hand resting over hers, "just for us."
And she had smiled because-
of course he had, he never missed a chance to make things more beautiful and meaningful.

They reached the apartment building just as the evening light softened across the corridor.
The same place.
The same one that had quietly become one of the most important places in their story.
Because Sanchi had already been living here.
Long before Atharv had again returned to her life.
Long before they had found each other again after twelve years.
And when Atharv discovered where she lived-
he had done the most Atharv thing possible.
He bought the apartment directly opposite hers.
Just like that.

Later, when Sanchi found out-
she had called him dramatic.
He had called it strategic.
And somehow-
both had been right.
Now they stood here again.
But differently.
No longer two people yearning across a corridor.
Now-
husband and wife.

Atharv stopped outside his apartment first.
Sanchi looked at him, confused.
"What?"
He smiled, almost boyishly.
"Wait."
Then from behind a side table near the entrance, he pulled out a tiny thali.
A diya.
Flowers.
A small kalash.
Sanchi blinked.
"Atharv..."
He suddenly looked shy.
"If you entered the Rathore house properly..."
his voice softened,
"you should enter this home properly too."
Her throat tightened.
Because this apartment-
his apartment-
had seen so much.
Late-night talks.
Doorbell surprises.
Their first proper kisses.
Their first hugs after twelve years.
Their balcony dates.
Their almost domestic life before they were even married.
And now-
he was welcoming her here as his wife.
Her eyes filled instantly.
"No crying," he warned softly.
She laughed through her tears.
"Too late."
So Atharv performed a tiny aarti.
Very seriously.
Then pointed toward the rice bowl.
"Proceed, Mrs. Atharv Rathore."
She smiled and gently nudged it.
Leaving soft red footprints as she entered.
Their home.

Before Atharv could fully follow-
Sanchi caught his wrist.
"Not done."
He blinked.
"What?"
She smiled mischievously.
"Come."
And before he could ask-
she led him back into the corridor.
Straight across.
To her apartment.
Atharv instantly laughed.
"Oh no."
"Oh yes."
She opened her door.
Then stopped him outside.
And this time-
she pulled out her own little thali.
Atharv stared.
"You copied me."
She looked offended.
"I planned this first."
Then more softly-
"You should enter my home properly too."
That shut him up.
Because suddenly-
this mattered deeply.
This apartment.
Where she had lived her independent life.
Where she had rebuilt herself.
Where she had unknowingly been watched over by a man who moved across from her just to be near.
Where she had slowly allowed him back in.
Where she had learned to love him again.

She performed a tiny aarti.
Then pointed toward a little kalash.
Atharv looked down.
Rice.
He looked back up.
"You want me to kick this?"
"Yes."
"This feels strange."
"Do it."
So he did.
And stepped inside.
Then froze.
Because her living room had changed.
Fairy lights.
Candles.
Photographs.
Some from twelve years ago.
But most from these past few months.
Their balcony selfies.
Coffee mugs.
Blurry late-night photos.
Screenshots of silly texts.
A dried flower from one of their walks.
And in the center-
their wedding photograph from that morning.
Already framed.
Already glowing.
And beneath it-
a handwritten note:
"Welcome home, Mr. Husband."
Atharv stared.
Then turned slowly toward her.
"You did all this?"
She suddenly looked shy.
"It was important."
"Why?"
"Because this apartment watched me let you back in."
Her voice softened.
"I wanted it to watch me welcome you too."
That-
that nearly undid him.